“There! Hold
that.” I hear, as I attempt to morph myself into one of the
simplest ballet positions. An overwhelming amount of corrections to
concentrate on, pain simultaneously coursing through my calves
threatening my foundation. Why am I putting myself through
this?
Day after day and week after week of my hair pulled so tight
to
my head that my face stretches upwards. Countless blisters and black
toenails with bruises to accompany them. Yet, today is a good day.
With only the tendinitis in my right ankle to bother me, adrenaline
overcomes my pain with ease.

As
class continues, all of my discomfort diminishes and my body and mind
begin to work together. When my teacher closes out barre with an
exhausting set of battements designed to test our stamina, I feel the
pain encroaching on my supporting ankle once more and ask myself
again… why am I putting myself through this? We
transition to center and I, an individual, become one with the class.
Our movements are perfectly timed in an eight-count rhythm, and we
feed off each other’s energy while emanating confidence from
within ourselves. Any stress we hold from outside influences, pains,
or worries we have completely subside, and executing the movements
presented to us with grace and technicality becomes top priority. I
see myself in the mirror, drops of sweat on my face and chest, cheeks
blushing, but I don’t feel winded. I am reminded why Ballet has
become my holy grail. I am reminded why I love ballet. Ballet is an
art form that requires such concentration and precision that
achieving perfection is nearly impossible. Maybe that is why I love
it so much.

While
I dance, I try not to compare myself to the girl next to me. I look
around and see that while we all dance as one, we all have our
idiosyncrasies.
When the choreography for our first corner to corner combination is
given to us, I interpret it differently than the girl standing next
to me. While neither of us are wrong, we dance the movements
presented to us slightly differently.

My
teacher yells, “Up,” when it is time to leap and we both
lift at the same time, but one of us lands with more plié than
the other. While I dance across the floor I am able to focus on
myself without worry of what my partner is doing. However, when it
comes time for a water break I find myself over analyzing my
movements and the way my body appears executing them. I look around
me and feel blessed to see a variety of body types. Anorexia and
bulimia plague the ballet industry, and it is easy to see why. As the
class progresses, the focus on body position and placement increases
steadily. I feel the pressure to conform to the ideal slim figure
that most professional dancers possess. My teacher tells me “tighten
your core,” and I try my best. I see my friends struggling with
the same correction and feel thankful that it is not just me who
grapples with the double meaning of the phrase. I embrace my
differences from my peers and work them into improving my technique.
Ballet is an art form that I find myself and lose myself in all at
the same time. My self awareness increases as the movements we are
told to execute become more difficult. I remember all the technique I
learned at the barre and it helps me stay erect during our last
combination before the reverence. The challenging steps given to me
bring me joy as I realize I can do them with determination. My love
for ballet grows as it teaches me that perseverance is key in any
situation.

The
reverence begins and I reflect on what a fulfilling class this was. I
lose myself in our final curtsy right before applause erupts, as it
does at the end of every class, in respect for ballet and our
teacher. I drive home looking forward to tomorrow when I get to do
this all over again.

My
name is Reese Conners and I am a junior at Little Rock Central High
School. I have enjoyed ballet as an extracurricular activity for as
long as I can remember. It has become my creative outlet as I have
gotten older, and I don’t know what I would do without it.